


A Sinking Numbness

by lindsay_007



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: A touch of madness, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-06-09
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsay_007/pseuds/lindsay_007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In "Roti," Will dreams he dissolves completely. This is Will's mind after the deluge delusion. I believe the kids call this a drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sinking Numbness

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fics for years, but this was just a little something I wanted to jot down. Enjoy.

A Sinking Numbness

 

...And the scraping at his window continued.

Will did not remember the time passing as his body had dissolved into the bed. He simply stopped existing, and then was staring at ceiling. An out of body, out of mind experience.

This was ascension of the purest kind -- an awareness of the madness within, the reality around, and the fact that he was both cognizant of it and yet interwoven with it.

What was the statistic? Something about the body being made up of almost three-fourths water? Maybe that was his diagnosis. His biology was betraying him. Whatever it was that made up Will Graham, it had slowly been dissolving since he killed Hobbs.

His dreams bled into his reality, so he’d bled into the bed.

Time, location, name.

Year 4.5 Billion -- Liquid State -- a solution of a man. 

The delusions wanted to be his friend.

The scraping at his window continued. The stag wants in, and won’t let Will forget. What he is. What he was. What the sound of bullets entering a body really sound like.

If only the rushing waters still bubbling around his bed could clean his mind.

His awareness comes back to him slowly, each limb reforming what’s left of him. Toes, feet, legs. Torso, a his beating heart, reconnecting to his neck and head. He is made new, but hollow, too drained to be the real Will Graham.

Even the clock has reformed. Not much time has passed at all since he first went to sleep. Will had been exhausted at 7:00, which probably should have made him more afraid, because there is nothing normal about turning in at that hour.

Flexing his fingers feels strange, delicate as the ends of lit cigarettes, but he is somehow intact. He holds the hand just a little over the edge of the bed, watching his flesh stand out against the darkness of the room

This is the part in the horror movie when the monster under the bed reaches out and yanks the damsel by her outstretched hand, dragging her into the hell below. But, Will Graham knows two important things: the damsels are already hiding there, and even if a monster was burrowed under his, Will would welcome it taking him away from all of this.

No, that was wrong. He didn’t want to lose himself to this. He wanted to stay. To stay. To stay intact. To stop the trickling bits of himself from flowing out. Stay, stay. Don’t go. But that was getting harder and harder with every day that passed.

Because the scraping at his window continued. Antlers on glass.

The rational part of him knew he was on limited time. Something was wrong, and he should get help. But, if it was true madness, the kind that couldn’t be fixed, only managed... It could be his death. Not a physical one, but Will Graham would cease to be, under  a cloud of medication and therapy.

Would someone have to care for him, because he couldn’t care for himself? Who would be burdened with the task? His friends could become strangers. The dogs would need new homes.

God, the dogs.

His jaw quivered. If a tear fell from him, it mixed with the sweat.

Will watched his hand in the darkness, watched it doing nothing spectacular at all, simply exist as an extension of himself.

He stretched it farther, stroking the air, bending his wrist, touching fingertips together...

The limb extended farther over the edge.

The monsters are already here. The monsters are not real. The monsters is inside.

No -- there was nothing there to take him.

 

8:39, Wolf Trap, Virginia.

Will Graham.

 

He would exist through this moment, and then another, and then another.

 

...And the scraping at his window continued.

 

 

 

 


End file.
